Coming Home
by Shahrezad1
Summary: Vanellope has to wonder about a few things, and asks the only female role model she knows. Calhoun and Vanellope friendship, large dose of Hero's Cuties romance. :)


**Coming Home**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Vanellope has to wonder, and asks the only female role model she knows. Calhoun and Vanellope friendship, some Hero's Cuties romance. :)

Disclaimer: Knuckles is red, Sonic is blue, Calhoun and Vanellope are their own women, so please don't sue.

~/~/~

"What's it like being loved?"

The words popped out from nowhere and Calhoun was as startled by them as a Cy-bug on the offense, ready to attack the moment her back was turned. But it was only Vanellope asking the question and so she forced her bristling emotions to stand down and her hand to release its death grip on her weapon.

Instead Tamora Jean Calhoun returned to cleaning the pieces of her gun systematically, tone neutral as she responded, "what do you mean?"

The eternal little girl swung her legs back and forth on the circuit board bench as they waited for 'their men' to return from their task—that of procuring permission from the Street Fighter gang to set up Cy-Bug Defense training on a few of their spare levels.

"Well, you and Felix. You seem pretty happy," the brunette shrugged a tad, "and he seems to like you a lot."

Calhoun frowned and was surprised by how much of an effort it was, "it's called a working relationship, kid. Nothing more. And Fe—_the squirt_ wouldn't know love if it hit him with his own 8-bit hammer."

"Then how come every time he looks at you he sighs?" the little Princess asked, all too innocently, "and hearts float around his head? And he accidentally breaks things when he's supposed to fix them? And he trips a lot? And Ralph said that one time he was daydreaming when a player was trying to get him to jump and he fell instead and the word 'Tammy' appeared in the speech bubble and-."

"_I get it! I get it!_"

By the time the child was done a full out blush had formed on the Sergeant's face, her hands frozen in position on her laser and expression a grimace of mixed feelings.

Vanellope looked up to her 'elder' in satisfaction, chin resting on an open palm. She waited expectantly.

"Alright," Calhoun admitted, growling and trying to turn away, "you got me. What is it with you and the thumbscrews, anyway?"

"It's a talent," Van shrugged, her smile as saccharine as calorie-filled baked goods; both sweet and evil, "so? Love?"

Taking a gander at their surrounding environment—filled with bustling crowds and a variety of characters liable to eavesdrop at any given moment—the blonde grimaced grandly, "do you really want to do this? Here? _Now?_"

"Because there's a better time?" the child retorted, "I'm either with Stinkbrain or you're with Shorty McShortShorts, smooching."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Private, and-."

"Ppphhhbt," Vanellope expostulated in scoffing derision, "yeah, right. I _saw_ you."

She probably had, too. It wasn't like they'd been hiding their mutual attraction from anyone, her antipathy towards public displays of affection somehow set aside when it came to the diminutive builder. She was addicted, in a way. To his presence, his earnestness, his kisses.

There really was nothing as satisfying as the look on his face after a good long kiss. As though the binary in his script halted mid-thought and it took him several moments before he was able to get it back on track. And then there was the satisfaction in knowing that, without a doubt, _she_ had been the one to put that expression there.

They weren't even dating, per say, if so trite a term could be used. But there was some element in the duo which caused them to be drawn to one another. Constantly. Until not being in each other's company was in itself a hardship.

She didn't always know how to face such feelings. And uncertainty was such a…foreign element. It left her head in a jumble of twisting wires and her heart leaping at odd things. The only time she could get away from it, really, was at work when her sole concern was surviving to kill Cy-bugs another day.

But Fun Size didn't need to know that.

It looked like she and the kid were in a stalemate. And if she wasn't so irritated with the little brat she might even admire her fortitude. In a way it reminded Tamora a bit of herself. Allowing a bit of a smirk to show through, the blonde finally sighed and nodded.

"Fine," stowing her weapon away within her inventory, Calhoun leaned back to rest against the bench, feet planted widely and arms loosely propped over the back. She tried to tamp down on the emotions raging beneath her high definition surface, processing the information like cold hard data typed up in green, "being loved. It…kind of depends on who's doing the loving. Pint-size is like a…heater. A down comforter on a cold night. Warmth. A ray of golden sunshine that you don't quite know what to do with. Like a jar of lighting bugs."

Her memory told her that she'd once caught them as a child, back on Earth before colonization brought humankind to the stars. But that was only code talking—she still couldn't recall her parents or childhood friends. Only fragments to support a flawed character. But they had been good, her mind told her, even if they were faceless.

Calhoun wondered what it must be like to be parentless, with no one guide them?

It would probably be similar to what Vanellope and all the kids in _Sugar Rush_ felt every day. Purposeless, driven by the need to drive and win and conquer. Nothing about their game indicated character depth or long-lasting purpose. It made her wonder—if Brad's death had left a gaping void within her, then what kind of hole existed in the candyland's immortal racers?

"What did Brad's love feel like?"

Tamora pulled in a harsh breath, frowning sharply at the girl. But Vanellope didn't mean to pry—she was only curious. And so she made the decision to let the girl off on the matter. But only just this once.

"Brad…is…was a data memory," she hedged, trying to explain her mixed feelings on the subject. It shouldn't be possible to hold this much conflicted love toward a character that had technically never existed. And yet she did. It was a painful paradox.

The girl nodded, shifting from a sitting position to a lounging one, laying across the seat on her stomach. Tiny stockinged legs waved back and forth to indicate interest as she propped her head up on her hands, merely watching her older contemporary, "uh-huh."

Calhoun heaved a sigh, "he loved like a friend. A comrade. It felt like a shoulder massage after a long day of battle. A joke to lift your spirits when you were trying to forget just how many men you'd lost that day. He was my right arm, and would watch my back without question."

Black hair bobbed as Vanellope nodded thoughtfully, "and…what's it like to love someone?"

Well, she was already on a roll. Might as well continue.

Huffing, the Sergeant covered her eyes and leaned back as she tried to explain her thoughts. Cutting it down to the bare bones which existed, "it's painful. And joyful. And bittersweet."

"Like eating chocolate?"

Calhoun smirked from where she leaned back, "a bit. And caring about someone else other than yourself…it's healing, in a way. It helps with the hurts."

"Any hurt?"

Her expression softened behind closed eyes, content to trick her mind into thinking that if she couldn't see anyone then they most definitely weren't there to witness her confession, "any hurt."

"…okay," the little girl whispered softly, then fell into silence. Both women were soothed by it, but it couldn't last for long as a throat being cleared interrupted their moment.

Vanellope was quick to respond, "hi Felix! Hi General Moron!"

"Hiya Princess Bratface."

"H-hello Miss, Ma'am."

The blonde's eyes shot open and she straightened faster than a Cy-Bug with food in sight. But she could tell immediately that the damage had been done. Ralph was looking far too innocent, his youthful majesty perched upon her royal designated seat on his shoulder. Leaving so that only the bashful construction worker was left behind. And currently Felix was emulating a strawberry sun, honeyglows raiding his face something fierce.

Calhoun scowled at him and this only deepened the ruddy hue. But he tactfully said nothing, merely taking a seat in Vanellope's place. And as the both of them paused a moment her mind noted how his feet dangled, unable to touch the ground once he was lifted up. It was just one more thing that made them wrong for one another. She needed someone man enough to support himself in an environment like _Hero's Duty_—Felix didn't even physically fit the part, with his short stature and gangling limbs. Yet she couldn't manage to let go of the sweet-tongued humble bumbler.

"…how much did you hear?" she demanded tersely, once the silence had become awkward enough for confrontation.

His expression was guilty if quietly happy. Not that he would dare admit it to her face, "…l-light…lightning bugs."

Tamora swore and the Game Central Station's _E for Everyone_ rating immediately censored it out. Felix winced, but even her displeasure couldn't hold him back for long.

"W-we have those, you know. Lightning bugs. In my game," he clarified, and she startled enough for her irritation to derail slightly.

But the larger question was this—who was she irritated really irritated with? Him or herself? And for what? Overhearing? Admitting that she had feelings? She wasn't quite sure. In her game any speck of emotion could be considered a weakness, so she'd forced her sorrow into a strength. But was it really so terrible that she cared about the old school Peter Pleasant?

Especially now that she was ready to make some _real_ memories and feel _real_ love.

Feeling a burden lift from her form, her ramrod-straight position dropped to something a little more human. It wasn't much, but it was a change. And that, at least, was a start.

"…do you?" interest sounded in her voice, softening it, and the man finally turned to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

Felix smiled, blush deepening, "I could show you sometime, Ma'am. Provided that you don't mind that they're a tad limited in their code."

Her answer was to land her arm around his shoulders. Fix-It Felix froze for a moment longer, hands wringing together, before a wave of relief turned him into soft dough.

Respite also loosened his words, and without thought a reflection of his heart tumbled from digitized lips, "I-I'm not sure if I have any right to lay claims on…a-anyone's heart. But I do know that being loved, to me, feels a bit like…coming home. Not having to live on a pedestal anymore. It fills my chest like…like hot tea with honey. I don't have to be perfect, and yet I still want to do my best. But now it's for a reason and a person."

Calhoun was shocked, eyes widening the slightest bit. She'd forgotten for a moment that there was another party in this situation, and another person who got to make decisions based on his heart. She'd gone for so long thinking only of what she felt—her loss, her sorrow, her back story—that she'd almost forgotten that it takes two to tango. Any action taken, forwards or back, would involve two people and two sets of feelings, not just one. And Felix had laid his cards down on the table as sure and certain as the night was long.

There was nothing temporary in his words, and with another start she realized that being a first generation game meant that he was programmed to believe in forever. And to him, being loved by her felt like he was coming home.

_Coming home_.

The couple remained utterly still after this confession, and moments seemed to last for hours as the typically raring-to-go Sergeant took ages to respond. The only indication that she had even heard what he'd said was the tightening of Calhoun's grip. But this time it fell to his waist, drawing him flush against her side. And with a quiet moment shared between them she finally leaned down to bury her face in his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek as his scent surrounded her. She sighed, soothed.

He was right. Being with together was like coming home.

~/~/~

AN: The characters of Wreck It Ralph are interesting because they're seemingly two-dimensional until they're thrown into a situation in which they have to adapt. Felix is one example of this—in the movie he didn't realize that Ralph was unsatisfied until his co-worker expressed it verbally. The concept had never even entered his mind. Mostly because Felix had been living the same existence of fixing for the last thirty years and in a way took it for granted that that was 'the way things were.'

But then he met Calhoun and it was like it was the first time he'd realized that there was more—bad things happened, he didn't always get what he deserved, people had problems—and only then did he start developing as a character.

I adore Ralph and Vanellope, because WIR really is a story of finding yourself and your place and learning to accept who you are despite the circumstances that you've been faced with.

But I like the story arc of Felix and Calhoun just as much. Because with them they prove that you can go against your code. A friend of mine once said, "we are more than our circumstances."

This was sort of an experiment to see how Vanellope would go against her code, and to try and find a little more certainty in her world. Love is a foreign concept to her at this point, since she's seen so little of it, and having a 'parental figure' in the form of Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun probably has shaken Sugar Rush up for the better.

But Van has never felt love before, so she tries to ask for an actual definition from someone who has experienced it previously and will give it to her straight. Not realizing that her question might stir some old feelings up.

I'm not sure if I got any of the characters correct (surprisingly it's easier to write Merida and even Young MacGuffin than writing Calhoun), but I sure tried. :)


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